It was a routine day . The bell of the lift rang , people trooped in , ringing in their floors , one by one . Then the lift slowly shut with a decisive clang and slowly descended .
Everyone kept their eyes down , one boy , who appeared to be a delivery guy , kept up a low toned , almost inaudible conversation . Others checked their phones .
The lift halted at 16 th floor , and an anxious, slightly hysterical mother , her hair dishevelled from running around in haste , midriff wet from early morning cooking and bathing kids , nailbeds still white from hasty atta kneading for tiffin paranthas , rushed in . She was clutching a pink satchel full of books , with Princess Elsa from the Frozen movie smiling slyly from the front , while gripping the left hand of a small girl , roughly 6 years old , in the other hand . A hastily swung water bottle still dripped drop drop on the lift floor , a coquettish Elsa smiled over her shoulder , through the thicket of her white braid , even on the water bottle .
The girl , clad in white shirt with the school’s logo embroidered over the right breast pocket , and a crisply pressed blue skirt , fiddled with a gel pen in her right hand .
In the quiet of the lift , two sounds were distinct , the steady drip-drip of the water from the bottle , and click - clickety -click from the child’s hand.
In one swift , wild movement , the mother snatched the pen from her daughter’s hands , and tishtened the screw top of the water bottle , silencing both sounds , simultaneously . Shaking her head with an unspoken warning , and a stern look , she handed over the pen back to the girl .
The lift stopped at ground floor and the harried mother exited quickly , hair flying , literally dragging her daughter behind her , for the fear of missing the school bus .
The delivery boy was still on the phone , the other people also filed out one by one .
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It is the diwali night .
the building society has organised a “Ranga rang karyakram “ ( colourful cultural function )
Again the venue is the lift .
A lady in black enters , filling the elevator with large clouds of cheap perfume , just like a car belching exhaust .
Her black saree has a thin gold border. in turn bordered by a large lace , intricately designed , also gold . Her ears are adorned with black beads dangling from a large circle hoop of pur gold , and her sandals are black blocks with gold straps .
She seems to have come upon all this wealth , suddenly , and quite late in life . Seems to be in her sixties , wrinkles adorn her neck , there were dirt filled cracks in her heel , and patches of gry hair had escaped henna application at the back .
She had along with her , a short stocky person , carrying a sack of potato chips packets and biscuits . He wore a black sherwani , adorned with shiny sequins , and a thick gold ropy chain around his neck , almost like a dog collar . The gold chain barely had any place to move , nestled as it was in the fat folds of his neck .
“Aaa gaya sab kuch na ?” The lady asked , deigning to do a half turn towards him , blasting us with a fresh wave of the cheap perfume , and revealing a black velvet purse , with gild bead trimmings .
The man nodded , in agreement , a bleary moist eyed look and a nervous twitchy demeanour , pointing to either substance abuse , or a mental deficiency .
Rich relatives are known to keep poor ones in their homes , using them as domestic helps , in return for bed and lodging .
Soon , the ground floor arrived , and the couple departed , leaving traces of jasmine on the air .
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It is holi and we are barricaded inside . The lift comes , opens , and departs . Screams , shouts and snatches of drunken revelery can be heard . Girls scream , men laugh , and the world looks the other way , for this day of colourful celebration , often turns into bawdy gross behaviour from even the genteel folk . Once in a year , disinhibition and chaos reigns everywhere , from the gutters to the tallest skyscrapers .
Common and good sense flees , to hide underneath beds .
The bell rings . Once , twice . Short rings . Third time it rings loud and clear and for long .
It cannot be ignored .
The spy hole reveals an unknown face , covered in black paint and few splotches of pink colour . Only his eye whites and teeth remain uncoloured .
Reluctantly , the door is opened , an inch . A brazen foot enters the doorway , jamming the narrow space in between the door and the wall . His accomplice , another human blackened from head to toe , balances on the stair railings on all four , and hoots like an owl, alternately chattering like a monkey , a feat achieved only by gymnasts , or the fully stoned .
Panic rises . A valiant attempt is made to dislodge the foot , a woodland suede covered in three shades of gulal , impossible to clean and thereby ruined .
Finally I succeed . Slam the door and lock it. Quickly dialled the building security . Bawdy songs are heard in the background .
More monkey chatterings and scampering of feet heard from the landing, even as the lift opens and security guards come out brandishing truncheons .
The owl hoots one last time , trailing into a whimper . Truncheon blows land on certain body parts and the duo are bundled into the lift, one guard pressing g for ground , and talking to the other on phone , presumably on the ground floor , ready to apprehend the miscreants .
The bell rings again .
It is the security guards now . Colour splotched uniform , stupid grin on the face , lecherous look in the eyes . Absolutely inebriated. Asking fpr bakhsheesh . They have left their own celebrations to come “ save us “ , a price will have to be paid . A single drop of saliva dropping out of the open mouth , like a salivating hyena , spotting the prey .
No option but to slide a hundred rupee note through the bottom of the door .
In a world full of coloured zombies , we are the sane ones , caged in .
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The neighbours cat leaps into the hurried , noiseless , brightly lit and air conditioned comfort of the lift . Before I can .
One step on the threshold , I try to cajole her to come out . SHe looks at me defiant , perplexed .
Defeated , I have to draw back and let the door close on the feline occupant . I cant travel with a stray cat .
Strays win . again .
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